


Black and Yellow

by kittywampus



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Endgame, Fluff, M/M, Smut, i'll add tags as i go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-06 18:57:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16393301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittywampus/pseuds/kittywampus
Summary: Ian and Mickey get released from prison. Life ensues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I'm not sure how long this will be or how often I'll update, but I'll try not to keep you waiting. Enjoy!

Fiona and Lip are picking him up. He gets out today, and it’s overwhelming. Saying goodbye to Mickey was too hard, he still felt it in his chest.

_His lips were nearly raw from how hard he’d been kissing him, hands tangled in Mickey’s slightly outgrown hair, Mickey’s hands framing his face._

_“I don’t want to leave,” he exhaled into Mickey’s mouth._

_“Yes, you do,” he murmured, kissing his mouth again._

_“I don’t want to leave_ you _,” he hated the way his voice broke, but it was true. Their sentence length was almost the same, but Mickey had gotten into a few fights, landing him an extra sixty days. Ian was pissed at him._

_“Gonna miss me that bad for two months, huh?”_

_“Just gonna be hard.. Don’t want you in here alone, Mick.” He knew Mickey could handle himself, that wasn’t the problem. He just felt guilty, for some fucking reason. If the roles were reversed, he’d be a mess._

_“I can handle my shit,” he said with no bite. “I’ll be outta here before you know it to annoy your narrow ass.”_

He’s standing outside the gates, wearing the clothes he wore the day he went in. Watch on his wrist, dead cell phone and wallet in his back pockets. He saw Kevin’s truck slowly make its way down the alley, Lip in the driver's seat and Fiona in passenger. His eyes mist up. He’s seen them plenty of times while locked up, but it was different now.

Suddenly he’s in Fiona’s arms, whos crying a little. He held her tightly, giving her back a couple pats.

“Shit, Ian,” she sniffled, pulling away to hold the sides of his head and give him a once over. “Look at you,” she shook her head, stepping aside to give Lip a turn.

“Bulked the fuck up in there, man,” Lip said before giving him a tight hug. Ian inhaled deeply and did his best not to cry. He’d missed his family so much, but seeing them up close was different than from behind the glass. Lip stepped back, holding Ian’s shoulder at arms length, “let’s get you some fucking McDonalds.”

-

There was a small welcome back party at the Gallagher house, of course there was. It was just his family, Kev and Vee, and a couple neighbors who just wanted free booze. The food was homemade and the company was good, so he was happy. Still couldn’t help himself from sulking a little in the corner, though. Fiona was the first to notice, plopping down next to him at the kitchen table.

“Sorry it’s shitty,” she said, nodding towards the living room where most people had wandered to.

He shook his head, taking another sip from his soda. “It’s great.” He wasn’t fooling anyone.

“What’s up?” She asked, looking concerned, as always.

“Just hard.. Being out while he’s still locked up,” he murmured, shrugging a little. He knew his family wasn’t exactly.. Thrilled with him being with Mickey. He didn’t care, not at all. He was happy, and they just had to accept that.

She placed a hand on his knee, patting a few times. “He’ll be out before you know it,” he said softly, her brows furrowed. “He stayin’ here when he gets out?” She asked carefully.

Ian nodded, “not letting him go back to his place, his dads out, not safe.. Got plenty of room here.”

She looked slightly wary, “you’re serious about this?” She said, less phrased like a question and more like a statement.

Ian looked at her, ready to defend himself. “I haven’t been this happy in a long time, Fi. He.. He’s it for me. Been in love with him since I was fifteen, I’ll always go back to him. Anything else, it’s fleeting. When I’m not with him.. I just feel like I’m looking for something. And.. shit, I’m done looking,” he said, trying his best to hide the wetness in his eyes.

She looked at him knowingly, smiling. “Okay,” she said simply.

-

He went to visit him the next day. How could he not? He brought some cash to drop into his commissary, heart on his sleeve. The guilt was nibbling at his composure, but it all kind of fizzled and dissipated when he saw Mickey’s face again. He held the phone to his ear, smile playing on his lips.

“Back so soon? Thought you’d behave yourself, it’s only been a day,” Mickey teased, looking just as happy to see him.

“Missed you too,” he said quietly, looking at him through the glass.  “Only fifty nine more days, right?” He tried sounding upbeat, but it wasn’t working. Mickey could tell.

“Ay,” he said gently. “I’m _fine_ , promise,” he said, leaning back a little so Ian could give him a once over. He only half smiled, so Mickey changed the subject. “The Gallagher’s give you a proper welcome back yet?”

Ian shrugged, “everyone’s getting old. Just cheap booze and casserole.. but it was nice.” He glanced up at him, “you staying out of trouble?”

Mickey laughed, rubbing the tip of his nose with his thumb, “yes, mom. Know you’d have my ass if I got more time added, and not in the fun way.”

Ian laughed a little. “There he is,” Mickey murmured, sounding pleased with himself. Ian smiled, genuinely smiled, at his boyfriend.

Fifty nine more days.

-

He needed a job. He wasn’t going to sit at home and mope, feeling shitty because his boyfriend was still in lock up. He knew being an EMT was over for him, especially with a felony, but the urge to help people was still there. He sat with a furrowed brow in front of Lip’s laptop, shiny and used, looking for something.

“Jobs for felons” seemed too generaal of a search, and it was getting kind of depressing seeing fast food and truck driving jobs staring back at him. He leaned back in his chair, glancing at the clock barely clinging to life on the wall. A little past ten at night. He’d only been looking for two hours and he had a list of nothing.

He got up to pour another cup of decaf, looking at the calendar on the fridge, somehow still up to date. Mickey had forty more days. Just forty. If he got more time added from a fucking fight he might explode. He’d been good for the most part, but had a couple close calls.

He went upstairs, making quick work of getting ready for bed before falling heavily onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling, hands folded over his stomach. Was he depressed? He couldn’t quite tell. Lonely, maybe. Bored, too. He had an itch to help people, to somehow contribute to society. Blue collar jobs were fine, but they weren’t for him. He needed something more. It seemed to be a common theme that when whenever he had something good going for him, he fucked it up somehow. He hoped he could keep his shit together.

-

Through several more hours of searching, he found an add for a company that sold kitchen appliances and utensils over the phone, in customer service. When he got hired, he wanted to scream. He wanted to help people, not with their fucking ovens.

He sat in his cubicle, his _cubicle_ , after being trained in for five days. He hadn’t even told anyone in his family, not even Mickey, about this shitty job. He was ashamed. How had he gone from EMT to customer service? He’d been there for a week and wanted to quit.

His phone ringing brought him out of his reverie. “Thank you for calling Silver’s Kitchen Supply Company, my name is Ian, how may I help you today?” He nearly snorted at the way he sounded. He wanted to kick his own ass.

“ _Hi_ ,” it was a woman, she sounded nice, thank fuck. “ _Um.. I accidentally cut my hand with one of your knives and I don’t know what to do_.”

Nice but stupid, apparently. “So you decided to call customer service?” It slipped out before he had the chance to stop it.

She seemed to ignore him. “ _It’s kind of deep.. Should I go to the hospital_?”

Ian blinked, looking around himself to see if he was being pranked. “Apply pressure to it with a towel,” he said, feeling the ever slightest thrill he felt when he was an EMT. “Then you really need to call 911.. I can’t help you,” he said slowly.

After a minute or two of explaining that he was only a customer service representative, she finally relented and hung up. Ian sat back in his chair, staring dumbly at his computer screen.

-

Ian talked Kevin into letting him borrow his truck to pick up Mickey. Nerves made his palms a little sweaty, his heart beat a little faster. He’s visited Mickey lots of times since getting out, called him a few times when he couldn’t make it. Somehow, he was just nervous. Excited. They were going to be _free_ , actually free. No running, no hiding. The thought made his eyes misty.

He stood outside of the truck, leaning against it after finishing a cigarette. His mind raced, foot tapping against the pavement as he waited. He glanced at his watch, two minutes had passed. He scrubbed two hands down his face and turned his face up towards the sky, eyes closed.

The sound of a door opening startled him. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of him. He was wearing a familiar shirt, an unfamiliar jacket. He had a chain around his neck too, shining in the sunlight.

“Fuck,” Ian said to himself, seeing the moment Mickey spotted him. He smirked, sauntering through the fenced gate that a guard opened for him. Ian’s feet walked him to his boyfriend before he could really register it. Once he was in his arms, his eyes were suddenly wet. He wrapped his arms around Mickey’s neck, the movement making them gently sway in tandem.

He pulled back, holding Mickey’s face in his hands to give him a slow kiss. It was easily reciprocated, Mickey’s hands on Ian’s hips.

After a few moments of kissing and holding one another, Ian shuddered out a breath. “Hi.”

Mickey laughed, his head tilting back a little, “hi, yourself,” he smiled a little sheepishly. “Missed you.”

Ian grinned, “going soft on me?”

“You’re the one with the waterworks, Gallagher. Eyes all watery and shit. _Soft_ , psh.”

He raised an eyebrow, laughing a little. “C’mon, lets get some fast food.”

Mickey moaned, “talk dirty to me.”

-

In an inexplicable turn of events, Ian found himself buried inside of Mickey on the kitchen counter. They were going to put away some groceries they got, but they were abandoned by the door.

“Oh fuck,” Mickey gasped, legs bracketing Ian’s hips as he thrusted roughly. He had one hand on Ian’s ass and the other gripped the sink, Ian’s mouth on his neck. Cups on the counter, and a loaf of bread, had been knocked to the floor while the dishes in the cupboard above them rattled with each snap of Ian’s hips.

“You like that?” Ian panted against his skin, both hands on Mickey’s hips, holding him in place. He thrusted hollowly a few times, circling his hips in a way that made Mickey moan high in his throat.

“Know you can fuck me better than that,” he challenged. “Been two months, show me what you got,” he growled and quickly ate his words when Ian quickened his pace, hands clawing down his back. Mickey’s hand went from the sink to having both in Ian’s hair, sending a plastic cup across the kitchen.

Ian sucked harshly on Mickey’s neck, wedging a hand between them to stroke his cock. He thumbed over the head, his other hand braced on the cabinet above Mickey’s head. Their mouths met again, a mess of lips and tongues. “Missed your ass,” he groaned into his mouth and pistoned his hips harder, punching out moans from Mickey.

“Fuck, I’m close,” Mickey whined, to which he’d never, ever admit to. “Just like that,” he sighed and tipped his head to the side, Ian’s mouth going back to his neck to suck a dark bruise into his skin. Ian’s thrusts slowed but deepened, making Mickey’s brows furrow together and jaw drop before he shot his load between them with a muffled shout into Ian’s shoulder.

“Yeah, fucking come inside me,” he urged Ian, both hands raking down his back to grip his firm ass. He kissed his earlobe, biting it roughly to elicit a desperate moan from Ian. His thrusts stuttered, hips flush against Mickey’s ass as he came. He groaned heavily, mouth finding Mickey’s again to kiss him hard.

Mickey slapped both hands against Ian’s ass cheeks, “alright, get the fuck off of me, you animal,” he chuckled.

Ian pouted, chin jutting out slightly. “What, no afterglow?”

Mickey snorted, “afterglow? Our groceries are going bad and there’s a bunch of shit thrown around your kitchen because you couldn’t keep it in your pants,” he accused and planted a kiss to Ian’s forehead.

“Fair enough,” Ian reasoned, pulling out slowly. Some come dripped from Mickey’s ass onto the counter and the floor, making him cringe.

Ian slid two fingers into Mickey’s still open hole, a pleasured hiss leaving his lips. “Easy, Gallagher,” he smirked and bit his lip.

Ian pressed his lips to Mickey’s in an opened mouthed kiss, interrupted buy the front door of the Gallagher house opening.

“Shit,” Ian cursed, quickly pulling himself from Mickey. He realized they’d been so rushed to get on one another, his pants were still around his ankles and Mickey’s were dangling from one of his.

They scrambled to get dressed, though their flushed faces and mused hair was a giveaway. Mickey went over to the back door, gathering some groceries to put in the fridge.

Fiona walked into the kitchen, the smile on her face slowly fading when she saw the state of the kitchen. “Um,” she muttered.

Ian leaned back against the sink nonchalantly, his palm accidentally landing in some cum. He did his best not to cringe, his smile faltering for a moment.

“Honestly,” Fiona shook her head, surveying the state of the kitchen. An amused smirk played on her lips. “Welcome back, I guess.”

-

The night progressed slowly, and Ian felt clingy. Mickey was sat up in Ian’s bed, shirtless with a cigarette between his fingers while his other hand ran his fingers through Ian’s hair, head rested on his lap with his arms wrapped around his waist.

Ian planted a kiss to Mickey’s hip, eyelids drooping a little. “I have work tomorrow,” he yawned.

Mickey raised an eyebrow, peering down at him. “Oh yeah?”

Ian’s cheeks heated slightly with embarrassment, “fucking customer service, I hate it.”

Mickey shrugged, “gotta do what you gotta do, man. Hard to find jobs for felons.. I need to find one,” he said, hand never stilling in his hair.

“Been looking into being a 911 operator..” He said quietly. He figured he could somehow weasel his way into it, he’d done it with being an EMT, just under different circumstances.

Mickey smiled at him, “always gotta be the hero, huh?”

Ian pinched his thigh, “yeah, yeah,” he murmured, speaking after a beat. “Just wanna help people, you know?”

“Yeah,” Mickey murmured, petting a hand over Ian’s cheek, “I know.”

-

Mickey wasn’t there when Ian got home. He pouted, doing the _chin thing_ , as Mickey called it. He showered and frowned at the memory of his day. It was boring, uneventful. He made sure to clear the history on his work computer of research into the job of being a 911 operator.

When he got out of the shower and heard the front door of the Gallagher house open, he smiled to himself. He could get used to that, Mickey coming home to him and vice versa.

He toweled himself off, leaving for his room with a towel around his hips. Mickey was sitting on his bed, rolling a baseball under his foot. He looked exhausted.

“Hey,” he murmured, laying back with a small _oof_.

“Hi.”

“Got a job today.. had me start two minutes after I filled out the fucking application,” he grumbled. “Construction, they couldn’t give a shit if I murdered someone.. Just handed me hardhat and told me to get to work,” he groused, eyes shut.

Ian frowned, dropping the towel to pull on a pair of boxers. “Sounds like a shit day.”

Mickey grumbled something in response, pausing after a moment to sit up again with a groan. “I’m gonna shower and pass the fuck out.”

He did shower, waltzing back into Ian’s room with a pair of Ian’s boxers around his hips. He slowly crawled into bed, wrapping an arm around Ian’s waist and pressing his face into his shoulder.

If Ian ever mentioned how much of a cuddle bug Mickey was to anyone, he would skin him alive. He was lucky Carl was at West Point and Lip had moved in with his girlfriend.

Ian locked his phone and set it on the windowsill, moving his arm to wrap around Mickey so his head could lay comfortably on his chest. He pressed a kiss to Mickey’s hair, leaving his face there to inhale his scent.

Home, that’s what he smelled like. Even after a long day and a shower, he still smelled like home. He felt like an idiot for letting him go, for squandering their happiness more than once. Sure, it might have been necessary to be apart for a while. But he treated Mickey like garbage. Yet here he was, in his arms, breathing gently against his skin.

“I love you,” he murmured into Mickey’s hair. He meant it.

Mickey gave Ian’s hip a squeeze, a light kiss on his placed on his clavicle. “I love you, too.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I forgot to mention it, but this isn't connected to my Pink and White one shot.

Mickey really, really knew how to ride dick. Ian theorized that he spent his years in the closet experimenting, and it had paid off.

“Fuck,” Ian groaned, drawing out the “u.” His hands gripped the thickness of Mickey’s thighs. He tipped his head back, his body jarring from each slam of Mickey’s hips.

Mickey laughed, his mouth in an open grin. Minutes before, Ian had been sitting in bed reading a book, leaning against the wall next to the windowsill. Next thing, Mickey was climbing on top of him. He didn’t complain. Fiona was out, Liam was at school, Frank was who knows where. They always took advantage of their time alone.

Mickey braced himself with one hand on the windowsill, the other on the back of Ian’s neck to drag him into a kiss whenever he pleased. He bounced up and down quickly, body jarring with each movement, stopping for a moment to circle his hips and pull Ian into a heated kiss.

“For fucks sake,” Ian moaned into his mouth. After two years of sex in a prison bunk, Ian’s twin bed could’ve been a king. He reached behind Mickey to grab his ass, spreading his cheeks apart.

“Mhm,” Mickey smirked, looking smug. “Speechless, huh?” He teased and rocked forward, their mouths open and pressed against each other.

“You..” Ian wracked his brain for words. He was speechless, apparently. “Really know how to ride dick,” he chuckled, his brows furrowing when Mickey suddenly quickened his pace, moving up and down with only his ass, his chest pressed to Ian’s

“Yeah?” Mickey asked. He ground down hard and swallowed Ian’s moan with a smile. “You like it? The way I ride you?”

Ian nodded, his fingers digging into the flesh of Mickey’s ass, grinding his hips to meet his rhythm. “Fuck yeah,” he answered belatedly. “You take it so good.. fuck,” heat stirred in his lower gut, his arms moving from Mickey’s ass to wrap around his middle. He kissed him firmer, trailing his mouth down his neck to suck a bruise there.

Mickey rode him harder, their bodies rocking against one another in tandem. He took his hand from the windowsill to place both hands in Ian’s hair, fingers trailing down his back. He tossed his head back when Ian wrapped a hand around him, his stomach clenching before he came with a shout, Ian’s mouth all over his throat.

He slowed his hips slightly, Ian’s thrusts quickening to chase his release. Mickey met him thrust for thrust, mouthing at his jaw.

“Fuck, _fuck_ , I’m gonna come,” Ian groaned and grabbed Mickey’s ass to guide his hips up and down, the mouth on his neck slicking up his skin with damp breaths and sloppy kisses. His hips stuttered, pressed flush against Mickey as he came. He let out a long groan, finding the strength to flip them over so Mickey was on his back. He rode out the aftershocks of his orgasm for a few moments, dropping his head to the crook of Mickey’s shoulder.

After several moments of panting, Mickey chuckled, because of course he would. He pat Ian’s ass in a congratulatory fashion, legs falling from around his hips. “Nice one.”

Ian sputtered out a laugh, slowly easing out of Mickey to roll over onto his side, facing him. “Nice one?”

Mickey was already grabbing a cigarette, “yeah. It was a good round,” he said casually, smirking as he lit the cigarette. He took a deep inhale before passing it to Ian, propping one arm behind his head.

“Surprised you had that in you after a work week,” he murmured after exhaling smoke. It was Saturday, their mutual day off, and Mickey had been sore all over constantly.

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged. “Got a second wind, I guess. Plus, it’s been a while since I’ve taken that cock for a ride,” he smirked and snatched the cigarette back.

Ian smiled in return, his mind wandering. He’d been noticing Fiona struggling to find an accountant for Patsy’s, someone to run numbers and assist in managing the finances and in general.

“You ever consider something more.. lowkey?”

Mickey eyed him, unamused. “Lowkey,” he stated.

“Yeah,” he said casually. “Fiona’s been looking for someone to manage the money at Patsy’s.”

Mickey’s eyebrows rose, “you’re not serious. You want me to work with Rosie the Riveter? Do you actually think she’d trust me with that money? They stopped hiring felons a while ago,” he rattled off, clearly not thrilled with the idea.

Ian turned to lay on his side, gently running his fingers over Mickey’s arm. “Would you at least talk to her? I hate seeing you so miserable after work everyday.”

Mickey pulled roughly from the cigarette, “could say the same thing about you.”

Ian avoided his gaze, “that’s different.”

“How, exactly? You come home looking like a kicked puppy everyday.”

“I’m not breaking my back, though, or working twelve hour days,” he retorted, moving to lay on his back again. “I’m working on the whole 911 thing,” he sighed. “It’s just gonna take a little time.”

Mickey eyed him, “you really want me to ask boss lady about this?” He asked. “To see if she wants her brothers felon boyfriend handling her restaurants money?” He was teasing now, a small smirk on his lips.

The corner of Ian’s mouth turned up, “worth a shot.”

-

Ian felt bad.

He felt really, really bad. Mickey often worked longer days than him, leaving Ian several hours of alone time before he’d come back home. He’d usually help Fiona with dinner and save Mickey a plate, or help Liam with his homework, sometimes watch Franny.

On his walk home from the L, he paused in front of the gate. He looked at Kev and Vee’s place and gnawed on his lower lip. Lately, Svetlana had been on his mind, as well as Yevgeny. He’d thought about them fleetingly from time to time in prison, but now that he was out, he found himself wondering where they were, how they were doing.

He knew about the falling out and the Alibi debacle with Kev and Vee, about his she’d shacked up with some rich old fuck and left the Southside.

He knocked on their door, his hands digging into his pockets.

Vee answered, “hey stranger!” She greeted with a large grin, hand on her hip. It’d been a while since they’d seen one another. She stepped aside for him to come in, walking into the kitchen where Ian could smell something cooking. Amy and Gemma were playing in the living room raucously, paying him no attention. “Everything all right?” She asked.

He nodded, he walked in further, having a seat at the dining table. “Yeah, all good. You?” He wanted to skip small talk, or maybe draw it out. He couldn’t really decide.

“Busy busy,” she shrugged. “Kev’s still at the Alibi if you need the truck or something.”

Ian shook his head, doing his best to not bite his nails. “Came over to see you, actually.”

Vee laughed, “what you need?”

“Do you know where Svetlana is?” He blurted out. He saw her tense up, hand stilling where she stirred whatever was in the pot she was hovering over.

She quickly caught herself, but her tone was clipped. “Why?”

“I.. want to talk to her,” he said slowly. Why did he want to see her? What exactly was he going to do? She didn’t give a shit about him, she had herself and Yevgeny set up pretty well. What would she need Ian, or Mickey for that matter, for?

Vee chuckled, “last I saw her was at her wedding, she’s with some rich old white dude on the Northside now,” her movements were sharper now, a little bit of water spilling from the pot. She sighed, “I have her phone number, if you want it.”

Ian nodded, “yeah, that— um, that’d be great,” he murmured.

Vee scribbled the number down on a sticky note and handed it to Ian with a wary eye. “What do you want it for anyways?”

He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Just.. To talk.”

She gave him a once over, turning back to the kitchen to finish whatever she was making.

He stared at the sticky note and stood up, “thanks.. I’ll, um.. I’ll see you around,” he said and turned to leave.

“Let me know how Yevgeny’s doing, please,” she said just before Ian left. “If you end up seeing her,” she’d turned slightly, giving him a look.

Ian smiled, nodding before he left.

-

Hiding shit from Mickey felt awful. Being secretive was something he was good at, though, but it still felt like shit.

He called her two days after Veronica gave him her number, having finally worked up the nerve. She answered and Ian realized he had probably thirty seconds to explain himself before he was hung up on.

_“Hello?”_

_Ian gulped and exhaled. “Svetlana?”_

_“Who is this?”_

_“It’s— Ian, Ian Gallagher,” he answered her, waiting a moment to see if she’d say anything. She didn’t.“Listen, I know you have no reason to listen or care about what I’m going to say, just hear me out..”_

She’d heard him out. They were on the phone for two hours that afternoon. Mickey had been called into work on that Saturday and Ian had seen it as good of an opportunity as any to finally contact her. He explained his situation to her, prison, Mickey, everything.

_“You want to see Yevgeny,” she phrased as an unamused statement._

_“I do,” he breathed. “Mickey doesn’t know I’m calling you—.”_

_She barked a laugh and said something in Russian, quickly returning to English. “Mickey never gave a shit about Yevgeny, I doubt he will care you are calling.”_

_“I’m going behind his back,” he said with a small wince. “I don’t want him to know so just— keep this between us?”_

-

He sat in a booth at a small cafe Svetlana had told him to meet her at. He didn’t want to meet on the Southside, the risk of his family finding out was also a risk. He stirred a sugar packet into his coffee anxiously, jumping when the door opened.

She walked in wearing an elegant blouse, heels clicking against the role floor. Her hair fell a little below her chin, expensive purse on her shoulder. No Yevgeny.

“Where—,” he said instead of a greeting when she sat across from him.

“I had to see if you were serious,” she said simply. “That you wouldn’t chicken out.”

Ian blinked at her.

She set her purse beside her, arms crossing over her chest. “Yevgeny is in preschool,” she stated. “I have to pick him up soon,” she gave him a once over. “You showed up.”

He realized he’d been holding his breath. “Yeah,” he said dumbly. “I— of course I did.”

She smirked a little, looking mildly pleased. “Good, now..” she sat back and lowered her crossed arms from the table to her stomach. “Tell me why now, do you want to be in Yevgeny’s life.”

Ian blanched for a moment, his coffee going forgotten. “Well, I guess I just.. It’s a new beginning, you know? I did a lot of thinking when I was inside..” he trailed off and averted her steady gaze.

“So, it is convenient for you now,” she deadpanned. “You want to disrupt his life— our lives, because it works for you,” she said accusingly. “Not when he was a baby and Mickey went to prison for the first time, or any time after that.. but now, after you’ve had time to _think_ ,” she said pointedly, “you miss him.”

Ian should have expected this. It was foolish to think Svetlana would welcome him with open arms. “You have no reason to let me see him,” he said honestly. “I just— I never stopped thinking about him,” he said. “He.. I thought of him as my own, for a while. I just had my own shit.. after the whole.. road trip..” he trailed off. He hated thinking about that. “You didn’t want me around, and I get that.. it just— I knew you didn’t want me to see him. So I stopped trying, and I shouldn’t have.”

She looked a little surprised, but she kept her gaze steady. “I take him to the park every Saturday,” she said finally. “You can come this weekend, but if you do,” she said, her eyes hard. “You tell him who you are, _and_ who Mickey is. This is how I know if you are serious, because you either want to be in his life or you don’t, and I do not have time for anything other than serious,” she explained.

Ian swallowed. Saturday? He’d have to come up with an excuse to get away from Mickey for a few hours, since it was their mutual day off. He racked his brain for possible reasons, coming up empty. He had no reason other than work to be out on a day off, which seemed a little sad. He loved Mickey, and the time they spent together, but he wished he had.. Some sort of something going on outside of work and his relationship. Even Mickey got a beer sometimes with his work buddies after a work day.

“I’ll be there,” he said, giving her a firm nod.

She sat back, “I will text you the address.”

-

“I talked to Fiona today,” Mickey said after walking from the bathroom back into Ian’s room. His hair was wet from the shower he’s just taken, clad in only a pair of briefs and a t-shirt.

Ian’s eyebrows shot to his hairline, “you did?”

Mickey tossed a sock at him, “don’t look so fucking surprised. I said I would, didn’t I?” He said indignantly.

Ian held his hands up in surrender, tossing the dirty sock to the floor. “How’d it go?”

Mickey shrugged, crawling next to Ian after turning the light off. Ian vaguely wondered how long Frank would be on his current bender and if he and Mickey could take over his room.

“Better than I thought, actually,” he murmured, settling on his back with an arm behind his head, phone in the other hand. “She didn’t seem to thrilled with the idea at first, which was predictable. We talked for a while, I got off work a little earlier today so..” He trailed off. Ian did his best to keep his body language steady. Mickey didn’t ask where he’d been. It wasn’t that shocking, Mickey was never the type to need to know where Ian was at all times.

“Said she’d think about it,” he said, putting his phone on the dresser beside Ian’s bed. He turned to face him, leg hitching over Ian’s hip. “I’m tired as fuck,” he punctuated with a yawn.

Ian counted his luck. He hoped he wouldn’t ever take for granted a sleepy, clingy Mickey Milkovich that cuddled next to him after a long day. “Me too,” _I love you_. He reached over him and turned off his lamp before settling in and draping an arm over Mickey’s waist, falling asleep with the familiar weight of Mickey’s leg lazily draped over his hip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!


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